


The Hub

by cazmalfoy



Category: Torchwood
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-19
Updated: 2014-05-19
Packaged: 2018-01-25 19:05:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1659134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cazmalfoy/pseuds/cazmalfoy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Ianto's son announces his intention to marry, Ianto has to make a difficult decision. His son or his partner.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Hub

**Author's Note:**

> This is a Torchwood version of La Cage Aux Folles/The Birdcage.

  
  


Ianto Jones had been living in Cardiff for nearly twenty years, and had been a successful businessman for fifteen of those years.

He had tried many ventures over the years, each of which had failed as spectacularly as the last. Just when he had thought he wasn’t meant to get ahead in business, he struck gold with ‘Torchwood‘.

Ianto took great pride in the club - nicknamed ‘The Hub’ by regulars and employees alike. The interior of the club had been designed to look like one of the London Underground stations, with ‘Torchwood’ emblazoned along with length of the back wall. Many of the designers Ianto had pitched the idea to, hadn’t liked it at all – everyone of them told him it wouldn’t work for the interior of a club. Only one man, Mickey Smith, had let Ianto keep his little idea, and it turned out people loved the theme – they thought it was unique, giving the club that little something extra.

Of course, interior decoration could only take them so far, and Ianto had set about hiring some of the best dancers he could find – all drag queens, of course – and the club quickly became the envy of the Cabaret world; people would come from all over the country to see Torchwood’s mainlining act.

Speaking of mainlining acts… Ianto glanced at his pocket watch and frowned. It was getting nearer to show time and the wings were suspiciously devoid of the performer that many people had come to see.

“Where is she?” Andy, the stage manager, worried; he was pacing the wings and wringing his hands in front of him as he moved.

Sighing deeply, Ianto slid the watch back into his pocket. “The same place he always is when he has one of his moments,” he muttered darkly.

“What are we going to do?” Andy continued, worrying even more than before - which Ianto hadn’t known was possible. “People are starting to get restless. If they don’t get something soon, we’re going to lose business…”

Ianto groaned and ran a hand over his face. “Why does he always do this to me at the least opportune moments?” he mumbled, his voice muffled by his hand. “Okay listen, tell the girls to move their routine to the beginning of the show and I’ll see if I can round up our resident drama queen.”

Andy smiled, relief clearly showing on his face. “Taming the wild beast?” he scoffed with a shake of his head. “Good luck.”

Ianto grimaced and straightened the cuffs on his shirt. “I have a feeling I’m going to need all the good luck I can get. If he holds true to form, this is probably because of something I’ve done, anyway…”

“Or not done,” Andy supplied unhelpfully.

At Ianto’s glare he quickly scampered off to find the dancers to tell them about the change in plans. Steeling himself, Ianto headed down the corridor to the largest dressing room and banged on the door loudly. “Come on!” he called through the wood. “You’re missing your curtain call; your fans are waiting for you.”

Silence answered him and he sighed. “Jack, this isn’t funny any more. Come on, I haven’t got time for this.”

The door opened so suddenly that Ianto actually jumped back in surprise. “About time!” he exclaimed. “You can’t pull stunts like this every time...” he trailed off when he realised the person he was talking to wasn’t Jack. “What are you doing?” he demanded.

The butler-maid, Owen, frowned and ran a hand over his hair. “What do you mean?” he asked.

Ianto rolled his eyes and took in Owen’s attire. He would recognise the gold sequin covered, floor length gown he was wearing any day; it was one Jack had bugged him about for weeks, before Ianto finally relented and bought it for his partner. He also knew Jack would go mad if he saw someone else wearing it.

“Just get changed into your own clothes,” Ianto instructed. “And take off that wig before he sees you,” he added, indicating to the shoulder length blonde wig Owen was also wearing. “He’ll take it out on me if you ruin it, and I‘m the one that has to fork out money for a new one.”

Owen smirked and watched Ianto wrench the door open, never once moving to take the wig off. “You won’t find her in there,” he taunted examining his nails intently.

Slowly, Ianto turned and glared at Owen. “Why?”

Owen grinned and ran a hand over the wig he was wearing once more. “My Mistress is not performing this evening,” he reported in a matter of fact tone. “She is in mourning.”

Ianto scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Mourning?” he repeated. “What has he got to be mournful about?” he demanded, placing a hand on his hip.

Owen squared his shoulders and grinned. “For her lost youth and love.”

“Oh, for crying out loud!” Ianto groaned and shook his head. He reached out and pulled the wig off of Owen’s head. “Just shut up and get changed, or we’ll get a real butler,” he threatened.

“Excuse me!” Owen exclaimed, holding a hand up. “I am no one’s butler. I am a maid.”

“We hired a butler,” Ianto sighed, moving away from Owen and heading towards the door that lead to their private house behind the club.

“But you got a maid!” Owen shouted after him.

x

When Ianto had built the club, he considered building a house that was separate from the club; purely because of the noise the club would produce. But Jack, in a moment of insightfulness, had pointed out that they were rarely at home when the club was open anyway, so Ianto had built penthouse suite above the club where the couple could live.

The apartment was suspiciously silent when Ianto arrived, and for a moment he thought he might be wrong about where his partner was. His worries, however, were squashed when he heard a bang and a snarl; well, it would have been a snarl if the voice wasn’t as high pitched as it was.

“Jack?” he called, moving through the house. He paused halfway down the corridor and straightened one of the nude male statues that stood in an alcove, thinking Owen must have knocked it when he had been dancing – he never cleaned anything. “You’re supposed to be on stage,” he added, trying to keep his voice light when all he was feeling was irritation.

Jack came out of the kitchen and Ianto had to bite the inside of his cheek hard to stop himself from laughing. The other man was wearing a silk kimono and a hairnet. He had accessorised with white fluffy slippers and a pair of yellow rubber gloves.

“Is there something wrong?” Ianto managed to croak when he’d got himself back under control. 

“You missed dinner,” Jack stated petulantly. “I made your favourite and you weren’t here.”

Ianto sighed and ran a hand through his hair. He had known his partner’s latest mood swing had to have been due to something he had done. “Don’t start this, Jack,” he implored. “You know I’ve got to take care of things at the club and they can sometimes take a while.”

Jack glared at him. “You’ve never missed dinner before,” he muttered darkly. “You used to be waiting in the kitchen for me to finish cooking.”

“You don’t usually cook, Jack,” Ianto pointed out. 

“I deboned a chicken for you!” Jack cried, making the other man jump. “And you weren’t here.”

Ianto sighed and took a step closer to his partner; treating him like an animal in the forest. He tried to not move too fast in case the other man backed away from him. “Jack,” he whispered, reaching out and placing a hand on his arm tentatively, “you know I love you and would have loved to have been here for dinner, but there was a crisis at the club that I had to deal with.”

Jack scowled and folded his arms across his chest. He looked as though his anger was waning and Ianto got a little bolder and pulled the other man into his arms. “I promise, we can go to Rose’s for supper after the show just… Please, get ready,” he begged.

Not waiting for Jack’s answer, Ianto turned on his heel and headed to the door. A pointed cough caught his attention and he turned back to face his partner. Jack was still sitting on the chaise lounge with his foot extended in the air and an ankle bracelet in hand.

“Something wrong?” Ianto asked, running a hand over his face in exasperation. 

“My ankle bracelet,” Jack stated, with an impatient tone in his voice.

Ianto sighed and moved back to Jack, snatching the bracelet from him. “You know, if you didn’t insist on wearing those ridiculously tight corsets, you’d be able to bend down and put it on yourself.”

Jack gasped in horror and glared at Ianto as the other man got down on one knee and carefully fastened the clasp around Jack’s ankle. “There was a time when you used to love fastening my ankle bracelets,” he stated sadly.

“There’s a different between having to and wanting to,” Ianto murmured. When the bracelet was fastened, Ianto ran his hand up Jack’s calf from ankle to knee, pressing a soft kiss to the inside of his knee, before getting to his feet. “Now,” he added, placing a hand on the back of the chaise lounge and leaning down, “will you please get ready?” he begged.

Jack glared at Ianto for a long while before reluctantly nodding his head. “I won’t be long,” he murmured.

Ianto smiled thankfully and ran his hand over his partner’s cheek. “Thank you,” he whispered, heading back over to the door. Before he left the room, he turned and blew a kiss back at the other man.

Jack ‘caught’ the kiss as Ianto left and studied it in his hand for a moment, before placing it on the vanity as he slid down into the seat.

“Alone, again,” he sighed, running his hand over the base of the mirror before him. “Story of my life.”

He took a moment lining up his face powder and eye pencils, before picking a mascara brush up and lifting it to his eye. The first swipe of mascara made Jack smile as he felt a familiar comforting feeling wash over him as he began his transformation from Jack, to Ceinwen.

Jack took his time getting ready. He knew Ianto was waiting for him, but he was a firm believer of not rushing perfection. He was never going to go out feeling anything but perfect.

His audience was waiting for him and when he stepped out onto the stage. The look of rapture on the faces of those he could see in the dim light made all the worrying about his appearance worth it.

x

Ianto watched from the wings as Jack took centre stage, opened his mouth and began to sing. They had been together for so long, and Ianto had seen him perform many times, but watching it never got old.

He managed to tear his eyes away from the marvel in front of him long enough to glance at his watch, and when he did he cursed under his breath. He loved Jack dearly, but when he got in one of his moods and Ianto had to assure him he wasn't about to run off with the next houseboy that became available, it could take ages and threw a spanner in his well-organised routine.

The Welshman cast one last look back at Jack, who had gotten into the swing of his show and was very clearly loving every minute of it, before he silently slid out of the wings and made his way back through the club to their house.

Ianto was glad no one was waiting to meet him when he arrived. He wanted a few moments to prepare himself before he had to...

"Owen?" he exclaimed when the lounge door opened and their butler came flouncing in, polishing his nails. "What are you doing up here? And what the hell are you wearing?" he added, laughing at Owen's attire - or lack thereof. What he was wearing could only be described as a loincloth.

Owen frowned and looked down at himself. "I'm trying out costumes for my spot in the show," he announced, indicating to his attire with his hand.

"You're not in the show, Owen," Ianto sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger.

Owen put his hands on his hips and glared at Ianto. "That's because you are stupid and don't recognise talent when you see it."

"I do recognise talent," Ianto argued. “You just don't have any. Now will you get out of here, I have stuff I need to do."

He turned and was about to walk into the study when Owen cleared his throat. "What shall I tell your guest then?" he asked nonchalantly.

Ianto turned back to face him so quickly he almost fell over. "What?" he breathed, his face flushing a little. "He's here? Already?"

Owen nodded and Ianto rushed forward, with every intention in heading into the kitchen. "And where you do you think you're going?" Owen demanded with a smug smile on his face.

"What do you want?" Ianto asked, stopping in his tracks and slowly turning to face the other man.

Owen folded his arms across his chest and began to list his demands. "I will keep your dirty little secret from my mistress and leave to give you privacy on one condition."

"And that condition?" Ianto asked, not certain he wanted to know what Owen wanted.

"You put me in the show," Owen ordered. 

Ianto laughed and shook his head. "No," he chuckled, thrusting his hands into his pockets.

Owen shrugged his shoulders. "Fine," he murmured. "I will go tell my mistress there's a visitor here for her as well."

Ianto grimaced and grabbed Owen's arm. "Okay, you win," he relented. "You can be in the show. Just don't tell Jack about this," he implored. 

Owen grinned and kissed Ianto on the cheek, before flouncing over to the kitchen door and shouting, "The Manly Moose Mainly Moons Mongolians," through the wood.

Ianto rolled his eyes and swatted Owen on the arm as he passed. "Just get out of here, otherwise I'll put you in the show as Janet's love interest," he threatened.

The kitchen door opened just as Owen left and Ianto felt all the oxygen in his lungs rush out all at once. The man before him had changed so much since the last time Ianto had seen him; he was looking even more handsome than ever.

"No!" Ianto exclaimed when the other man tried to take a step closer. "Don't. Stay where you are. I just want to savour this moment."

The other man rolled his eyes and moved forward, despite Ianto's instructions to stay put. "I haven't been gone that long."

"This past month has been torture," Ianto informed him, nodding his head. "Nothing but the occasional post card and phone call. You're not going away ever again; you're going to stay here with us until you grow old or they learn how to cryogenically freeze us - whichever comes first."

Rhys rolled his eyes. "I thought Jack was the drama queen of this family? Can I least get a hug before you commit me to solitary confinement for the rest of my life?"

Ianto blinked, only just realising that he hadn't actually welcomed the other man back properly. "Of course you can," he agreed, "get over here, you."

He pulled Rhys into his arms and hugged him tightly. So tightly, he could barely breathe. "Tad," Rhys wheezed, trying to get Ianto to loosen his grip. "You're suffocating me!"

Ianto laughed and released him. "So," he began, reaching for the bottle of red wine he had set out earlier - which had probably been what set Jack off, in retrospect; the older man and Ianto only drank white. The bottle of red out must have been a clear indication that something was wrong. "Tell me everything about your trekking adventures. I'm assuming you took lots of pictures since you managed to con me into buying you that new camera before you left."

Rhys grinned and accepted the glass Ianto handed him, sitting down on the chaise lounge next to him. "Of course I did," he assured him. "But I actually came back to tell you something," he confessed after a moment of silence.

Ianto frowned deeply. "You came to tell me something?" he repeated. "What could be so important that you had to tell me in secrecy like this? I'm sure Jack would like to know your news as well."

Rhys grimaced a little. "I'm sure he would, but I have something that he might not like." He paused; whether it was for a dramatic effect or not, Ianto never knew because his world ended with Rhys' next words. "I'm getting married."

Silence. For a long moment there was nothing but silence in the room. Then Ianto somehow recovered his voice and croaked, "Married?" Rhys nodded his head. "You can't get married. You're only twenty!" he exclaimed, jumping to his feet.

Rhys sighed and looked at his father. "I'm twenty-four, Tad," he reminded the other man.

Ianto raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure?" he questioned.

"I’m pretty sure," Rhys laughed. "But I have a problem."

Ianto gulped and sat down heavily on the chaise lounge. "Me too," he murmured. "Twenty four years old. That's it!" he exclaimed, jumping to his feet decisively. "I forbid you to get any older. You are to remain twenty-four for the rest of your life. You getting older makes me feel old. I shouldn't be feeling old at fi... Well, at my age," he amended with a grimace.

"This is all that girl's fault, you know?" he continued. That was one thing he had in common with Jack; once he got started on a subject he could go on about it for days. "You go away for a month with this Gwyneth girl and then come back professing that you're going to be married. It's her! She's corrupted your mind."

Rhys rolled his eyes. "Her name is Gwen, and she hasn't corrupted me," he stated, trying to keep patient. "I'm in love; that's all."

"That's corruption," Ianto argued. "Besides, you were in love the last time, and the time before that. What makes this one so special?"

"How many of them can make me feel like I'm handsome and tall?" Rhys challenged. "Gwen does. She makes me feel like I'm top of the world all the time. Something about this is different from before; I know that, Tad. This is like you and Jack."

Ianto raised an eyebrow. "She throws strops and gives you high blood pressure as well? Son, run as fast as you can in the opposite direction. Save yourself the aggravation."

Rhys rolled his eyes. "You know what I mean, Tad. I love her and I'm marrying her; end of story."

Ianto picked up his wine glass and knocked back another drink. "If you're that set on marrying her, why did you come here to tell us? You could have put it in a letter; you very clearly didn't come for our blessing."

Rhys winced and ran a hand through his hair. "That's not my only piece of news," he confessed. "There's something else."

"There's more?" Ianto whined. "Of course there's more. After all, it's not enough to kick me while I'm down; you've got to put the knife right in there and jiggle it about a bit."

"Gwen's parents want to meet mine before they agree to her getting married," Rhys interrupted Ianto's self-pitying rant.

"Well, of course they do," Ianto stated. "I don't see what the big deal is. All three of us will sit down for a meal with these people and you can get the girl."

Rhys sighed and ran a hand over the back of his neck. "Trust me, I wish it were that easy. Gwen's father is Geraint Cooper."

Ianto looked at his son blankly and shook his head. "So?"

"Geraint Cooper," Rhys repeated and Ianto shook his head again. "The head of the family morality order."

"What's the big deal?" Ianto shrugged his shoulders. "Who's more family orientated than us?"

Rhys growled and rolled his eyes. "Don't you read the papers, Tad? I mean something other than the entertainment section."

Ianto waved his hand. "What's the point? Nothing in there is of any interest to me anyway."

"Geraint Cooper is the head of the family morality order," Rhys reiterated. "He..."

"The head of the family morality order?" Owen's voice interrupted Rhys, alerting them both to his presence. Rhys nodded his head and Owen winced. "Uh oh," he murmured. "That’s awkward."

"I still don't see what the big deal is," Ianto stated. "We're very family orientated here and…" He snorted with laughter, "I will admit that morality could be worked on," he confessed.

"But it's Geraint Cooper!" Owen exclaimed. "The head of the family morality order."

"You two repeating the same thing dozens of times is not gong to make me understand what you're talking about any more than I already do!" Ianto exclaimed, getting irritated. “And shouldn’t you be with Jack?” he demanded of Owen.

The butler ignored him and Rhys sighed, rolling his eyes. "He's campaigning to close down all the clubs in the city," he informed his father.

Ianto paled considerably. "Oh God," he murmured. "That's Geraint Cooper? God, you picked a right one there. I'd better warn Jack who he is."

Rhys winced and looked away from his father with guilt in his eyes. "That's the other thing I needed to tell you," he confessed. "It's about Jack."

Ianto looked at him with a blank expression on his face. "What about Jack?" 

The younger Welshman rolled his eyes. "Come on, Tad!" he exclaimed in exasperation. "He's not exactly... suitable for a dinner with the head of the family morality order, is he? I was thinking he should..." he winced a little. "Maybe he should go away for the evening?"

Ianto stared at his son in disbelief. "Why would he do that? He's part of this family as much as you and I are.”

He watched as Rhys crossed the room and slid down onto the chaise lounge, running his hands over his face. "It's only for one night. I love Gwen and want to marry her. If I don't impress her parents, then that is never going to happen."

"So, Jack," Ianto started, feeling anger well up inside him, "who has raised you as his own for over twenty years, devoted his entire life to you - to this family - is being kicked out of his own home - a home he helped create for us, no less."

"For one night!" Rhys cried.

"Oh, because that makes everything so much better," Ianto commented sarcastically. "Kicking him out of his own home because you want to get your leg over is just disgraceful. I won't let you do that to him. Jack would want to meet whatever in-laws you're going to get."

"What about what I want?" Rhys almost shrieked. "What about all the fights I got into at school, all because I was defending him? All the times I got picked on, just because he liked for us to walk down the street arm in arm. Don't I deserve something for going through all that?"

Ianto sighed and ran a hand over his face. He stared at Rhys for a long moment before speaking, "You're being serious, aren't you?" Rhys nodded his head. "What am I supposed to tell Jack?" he demanded. "I can't very well tell him that the child who might as well be his flesh and blood doesn't want him around."

Rhys shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know," he exclaimed. "Make something up; tell him he should get away from the club for a few days. And we'll call Mother and get her to stay for a while."

Ianto raised a hand, cutting of Rhys mid thought. "Wait," he instructed. "Mother, who?" he asked.

Rhys rolled his eyes and looked up at Ianto imploringly. "Please, tad," he begged. "You know who I mean. Mother. My mother. The woman who gave birth to me."

"What?" Ianto exclaimed in astonishment. "Why would we want her to stay?"

"Because the Coopers want to meet my parents; that generally implies that they want to meet my mother and father," Rhys explained, trying his best to stay patient. Owen had disappeared at some point during the conversation and Rhys had a horrible feeling that he had gone to collect Jack from his show. "They already know that Mother is a business executive in the city centre and I told them that were in the Foreign Service; retired of course. Don’t worry, I was very vague.”

"Well, if you can’t be truthful, be vague,” Ianto scoffed. "Is there anything that you've told them that's true?" Rhys remained silent and Ianto rolled his eyes. "Is there anything else you expect us to do? Change anything else?"

"Actually," Rhys winced. "Now that you mention it, there are a few things we need to change,” he confessed. “Let's start with your clothes."

"What's wrong with my clothes?" Ianto asked defensively, looking down at his pink shirt. 

"For starters, it's pink," Rhys stated. "It's not exactly subtle. We just need to tone it down a little. Then we can get started on the decor. Remove some of the more..." He glanced around at the artwork in the room around them. "Obvious items."

"Where are you going to put them?" Ianto asked. 

"I don't know," Rhys confessed with a shrug of his shoulders. "We'll put them in storage. It's only for one night; it's not going to harm anyone if they're not here. And the door," he pointed out of the room, "the one that leads to the club, we'll-,"

"So, it's true! You really are here!" a very familiar voice exclaimed from the very door Rhys was talking about. "While I've been giving my all on stage, you two have been catching up without me."

Ianto smiled tightly, although he knew it didn't reach his eyes; he just hoped Jack was too preoccupied with Rhys’ arrival to notice. Rhys smiled just as tightly and got to his feet. "We were just having a drink until you got back," he only half-lied; there were wine glasses out, after all.

"Oh, come here, you," Jack cooed, all annoyance gone as he held his arms out in invitation to Rhys. "What's this I hear about a wedding?" he demanded, leaning back after hugging him and looking at him intently. 

Rhys looked over at Ianto in desperation. Ianto shrugged his shoulders and looked past Jack at Owen who was standing behind him, looking very smug. "Oops?" he murmured, looking very unrepentant.

"Yes, I'm getting married," Rhys agreed, turning back to Jack. "That's what I came here to tell you and Tad."

Jack kissed Rhys on the forehead. "Well, we'll have to meet this… girl and make sure she’s good enough for our boy," he decided, looking over at Ianto who nodded and tried very hard to smile at his partner. 

Rhys looked at Ianto imploringly. Ianto shook his head slightly, telling Rhys not to say anything. "That sounds great," Rhys said, trying his hardest to smile at Jack.

Jack frowned a little and looked at their son. "Have you been eating?" he asked, glancing at Rhys’ torso. "I can practically see your ribs. Go in the kitchen and find yourself some food. There must be something in there that Owen hasn't completely ruined."

"I'm fine," Rhys insisted. "But I need to tell you something..." he tried to say.

Behind Jack's back Ianto shook his head furiously and mouthed 'I'll talk to him', all the time indicating that Rhys should just do as he was told and go into the kitchen.

With a sigh, Rhys nodded his head and slouched into the kitchen. When they were alone, Ianto looked over at his partner, trying to decide what he could do about their son's predicament; preferably without hurting Jack's feelings, or their relationship, in the progress.

"Why don't we go for a walk?" Ianto suggested, with a hopeful tone in his voice. "Get some fresh air."

Jack looked at Ianto and raised an eyebrow. "You want to go for a walk?" he asked incredulously. "Don't be so ridiculous."

Ianto rolled his eyes and placed his hand in Jack’s. “I’m not being ridiculous,” he stated, “I’m being serious. Come on.”

Jack tried to protest, but Ianto tugged his hand harder, pulling him to the door. “At least let me get changed?” he asked, finally managing to wrench his hand from Ianto’s grip.

Ianto stopped and turned back to face him. “Get changed?” he repeated. “What’s wrong with what you’re wearing now?” he added.

The other man rolled his eyes. “You know I don’t wear drag outside the house and club,” he said slowly, with the tone of voice one used to speak to small children.

Ianto sighed and slouched down on to the chaise lounge as Jack bounced into their bedroom to get changed; although, what he was going to change into, Ianto had no idea. Most of Jack’s suits were more flamboyant than his dresses and wigs.

x

An hour later, Ianto and Jack finally made it to their favourite café by the bay. Jack had changed outfits several times; Ianto had actually lost count after the first four times.

“I’m surprised they’re still open,” Ianto muttered darkly, looking up at the building in front of them. “You took long enough to get ready.”

Jack glared at him and rolled his eyes, but otherwise refrained from commenting; mostly because he knew Ianto was right. He had changed a few times, purely because he couldn’t decide on what kind of weather to dress for. In the end, it turned out to be quite a nice evening; rather warm for the time of year – mid-October.

“Oh,” Jack sighed, pressing the heel of his hand to his forehead. “The world has looked so dark and dreary since Rhys told us he was getting married.”

Ianto looked at his partner and rolled his eyes. “It’s night time and you’re wearing sunglasses,” he murmured wearily.

Jack glared at him over the top of the aforementioned sunglasses as he sat down at their usual table, just as the shop’s owners – John Smith and his wife, Martha – arrived.

Martha was carrying a tray of drinks in her hand and grinned widely when she saw the couple.

“Jack, Ianto!” John beamed, clasping their hands tightly in greeting.

“How are you?” Ianto asked, kissing Martha on the cheek.

“How are the kids?” Jack added, doing the same.

John smiled fondly and replied, “Getting bigger.”

“Getting older,” Martha said with a slight hitch in her voice.

Jack smiled sympathetically and patted her on the hand. “Aren’t we all?” he murmured sadly.

John and Martha stayed for a little while longer, nothing more than idle chitchat, before retreating back into the café to give the couple some privacy. The Tardis Café was one of the few places in the city where neither of them had to worry about being a couple.

Jack watched them go with a wistful smile, before sighing dramatically. “Oh, Ianto,” he said, “Our baby’s getting married. Where did we go wrong?”

Ianto shrugged his shoulders. “I’ve been wondering that myself for a few hours,” he admitted.

“And to be marrying a woman as well,” Jack scoffed. “It’s practically barbaric. Snakes live male and female together. Cats live male and female together. We’re human beings; we know better. What are we going to do with him?”

Ianto sighed and ran his fingers over the tabletop. “Well, you know what they say; you can’t keep children in cages.”

“Well, not forever,” Jack quipped, a ghost of a smile on his face.

“Speaking of children,” Ianto said carefully. “Rhys wants his mother there when Gwen’s parents get here.”

“Well, of course I’ll be there,” Jack scolded, swatting his partner on the arm. “Where else would I be?” he asked.

Ianto closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “No, I mean his birth mother.”

Jack paused and stared at Ianto for a long moment before slowly reaching up and removing the sunglasses. “Excuse me?” he demanded, his voice dangerously low.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Ianto begged. “She is his mother, after all.”

Jack continued glaring. “Surely you’re not talking about that little tart who seduced you that night at the Millennium Centre?”

“She’s not a tart; her name is Donna, and she’s a very good business woman in Canary Wharf.”

Jack scoffed and rolled his eyes. “You make her sound wonderful. Well, if she’s so fantastic tell me, where was she when Rhys started walking? When he lost his first tooth? What about all those times he tried calling her, only to get the voicemail – and has she ever returned one of his calls?”

“Well, no,” Ianto conceded. “But that’s not the point. The point is Rhys wants her there, so what can I do? She is family in a way, I suppose, technically. She did carry him for nine months, after all.”

“I would have delivered in eight, and not to your doorstep,” Jack snapped, turning in his seat away from Ianto.

“Please, Jack,” Ianto begged, reaching out to touch his partner’s arm, but stopping himself. “You know I wouldn’t ask if it didn’t mean a lot to Rhys.” If he was going down, he was damned if he wasn’t going to take their son down with him.

“Fine,” Jack huffed. “She can come and the three of us will bear witness to our son’s marriage. Hand, in hand, in hand,” he added with a disgusted scowl.

Ianto couldn’t help it; he grimaced at Jack’s mention of the three of them.

“Oh, I know that look, Ianto Jones!” Jack exclaimed. “You’re holding something back. Go on. Might as well have all the bad news at once. Who else have you invited to this soirée?”

“It’s not the invited that’s worrying me,” Ianto confessed. “You see, the thing is…” he broke off when he heard the clock chime.

“Oh, it’s midnight. I’m going to be late!” Jack exclaimed, patting Ianto’s hand and jumping to his feet. “I have a show to perform,” he added, jogging away from the café as John returned to close up.

“The first time in his life he has to be on time,” Ianto murmured, reaching into his pocket and pulling out money to pay for their drinks. 

x

Jack had been on stage for a few moments already when Ianto arrived back at the club. He sighed and slumped down at Jack’s vanity. “You’re a fool, Ianto Jones,” he muttered, glaring at his reflection in the glass. 

Behind him, he heard the door open and he slowly turned to see his son – currently the bane of his existence – standing in the doorway. “What is it now?” he growled, turning back to the mirror. “Come to ruin my life even more?”

Rhys rolled his eyes and stepped further into the room. “I’ve got a van outside,” he informed his father. “I rented one from Harwoods.”

“What on Earth would you need a van for?” Ianto asked, raising an eyebrow.

Rhys sighed and glared at Ianto. “For all the stuff in the house,” he stated, trying to stay patient. “I figured we’d start in Jack’s wardrobe.”

Ianto spluttered and turned around. “His wardrobe?” he repeated. “Surely they’re not going to conduct searches of our wardrobes.”

“Well, no,” Rhys conceded. “But where will mother put her clothes?”

Ianto shrugged and turned back to the vanity. “She can leave them in the taxi for all I care,” he muttered darkly. “Why would she need to put her clothes in our wardrobe?”

Rhys growled in annoyance. “Think about it, Tad,” he instructed. “How is it going to look when Gwen’s parents get here and you’re not sleeping in the same bedroom?”

“Like any couple married twenty years,” Ianto shrugged again. “She’s not sleeping in our room and that’s final.”

At that moment, the door opened and Jack came in, carrying one of his dressed over his arm. “Ah, there you are!” he exclaimed, seeing Rhys standing over Ianto. “I’ve been looking for you. Your father and I have been talking, and we’ve decided that we’ll sit down with this girl’s parents and get to know them properly.”

Rhys spun around so fast, Ianto was afraid he’d given himself whiplash, and stared at Ianto open mouthed. Ianto shrugged his shoulders and offered Rhys a sheepish smile. Slowly, the younger man turned back to face Jack and smiled weakly. “That sounds great,” he said. “Ill be in your room,” he added, glancing meaningfully at Ianto.

“Wait! In our room?” Jack questioned in surprise. “What’s he doing in there?” he demanded of his partner.

Ianto sighed and ran his hand through his hair, glaring at the retreating back of his son; he knew he’d said what he was doing on purpose to make Ianto tell Jack the truth. But he couldn’t. There was no way he could bring himself to crush the other man like that. “Just Spring cleaning, you know? Cleaning out the cobwebs, vacuuming the floor – everything Owen is supposed to do.”

Jack frowned deeply. “But why Spring clean when it isn’t Spring?” he questioned.

“It will be someday, with any luck.” Ianto smiled tightly and looked at Jack; truly looked at him for the first time in… he didn’t know how long. “God, I love you,” he breathed.

Jack blushed lightly and lowered his head, the hair from his wig falling in front of his eyes. “You’re such a sap,” he admonished. 

Ianto got to his feet and crossed the room, not stopping until he was in front of his partner. He leant down to kiss him, but there was a light knock on the door before he close enough.

They turned and watched as the door opened and Owen entered, carrying one of Jack’s dresses. “Miss Ceinwen, your public is waiting for you.”

Jack glanced at the clock and gasped. “I’ll see you after the show.” He turned on his heel and quickly marched out of the room – Jack Harkness never ran anywhere.

Ianto sighed heavily and slumped into the seat once more. He was screwed he really was.

“Tad!” Rhys hissed from the door, trying to catch his father’s attention. “Are you going to help?” he asked.

Slowly turned to stare at him, “You’re kidding, right?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. “I’ve done all I’m going to helping you. You can forget about anything else. You want to move anything; do it yourself.”

Rhys sighed impatiently and thrust his hands in his pockets. “Come on, Tad,” he begged. “You know I can’t move everything on my own.”

Ianto heaved a sigh of his own and launched something across the room at his son. “Get out of here,” he snapped. “I’ll be up in a minute.”

x

Jack was heading for his dressing room when Rhys almost ran into him, carrying one of the most obvious statues from the house – a half naked man.

“Whoa!” Jack exclaimed, holding his hand up, stopping Rhys in his tracks, just as Ianto appeared. “Where do you think you’re taking that?” he demanded. “It’s an antique. Don’t carry it like that! Ianto, will you tell him to put that back?”

Rhys turned and looked imploringly at Ianto. “Will you… Will you tell him please?” he begged.

“Tell me what?” Jack demanded. “I know that look. You two are hiding something from me and I want to know what it is.”

Ianto and Rhys’ eyes met and Ianto sighed, slowly turning to face Jack. “Well, you know that Gwen’s parents are on their way here.”

Jack nodded. “Of course I do,” he scoffed, stepping around Ianto and moving into his dressing room. He left the door open a little so that he could still hear what his partner was saying; yet they couldn’t see around the door into the room.

“Well, what I didn’t say to you is...” Ianto hesitated and bit his lip, not knowing how to phrase what he needed to say. “You’ve heard of that guy who’s trying to impose his beliefs on the city? Close down the clubs? Well, the girl - this Gwen - that’s her father.”

Silence came from inside the room and Ianto continued, “They’re coming to meet Rhys’ parents and expecting a mother and father. I’ve called Donna and she’s on her way here. It’s not ideal, but Rhys assures me that Gwen is nothing like her father. So, for one night we will all play a big game of pretend and for that night Donna will be my wife. Then when all this is over we’ll all have a good laugh at their expenses and talk about how we pulled one over on them.”

There was still noting from inside the dressing room and Ianto sighed, leaning against the wall next to the door. “Please say something, Jack,” he begged.

Suddenly the door opened and Ianto jumped in surprise and moved away from the wall. “Jack…” Rhys murmured, taking a step closer.

Jack held a hand up, snapping at the young man to stay put. “If you’ll excuse me, I have a show to finish,” he stated, his face set and his voice angry. He turned to throw Ianto a glare, but refrained from saying anything as he stalked down the corridor to the stage.

As Ianto watched what was possibly the most heart felt and angriest performance of Jack’s life he couldn’t help but wonder if he had fucked up the best relationship he had ever had. Jack had always been there – for every good and bad moment. What made Ianto think he had the right to kick him out of the home he had helped build for them?

When the song finished and the curtain went down, Ianto took a step out of the wings in an attempt to speak his lover. Before he could even open his mouth, Jack pulled off his wig and threw it at Ianto with more force than Ianto had ever seen from his partner.

Jack didn’t speak as he grabbed the bottom of his dress and stormed off the stage, almost knocking over Andy as he went.

x

Ianto arrived at the café just as the clock was striking eight the next day. He had been looking for Jack all night, but hadn’t managed to locate his partner. He slumped down into the chair and closed his eyes. He had been hoping the café was already open and Jack would be there; he didn’t know why he expected life to be kind to him all of a sudden.

He heard footsteps a few feet away and his eyes flickered open. He sighed with relief and jumped to his feet when he saw it was Jack approaching him, Owen close behind him carrying a lace parasol. 

“Jack!” Ianto exclaimed, rushing forward to embrace Jack regardless of them being in public – he didn’t care; he was just relieved to see his partner. “Thank God you’re here. I’ve been looking for you all night. Where have you been? You could have gotten hurt.”

Jack turned around suddenly and Ianto found himself with a face full of parasol. “God watches over His woeful child. My mistress is a homeless widow; ill treated and ill dressed.”

Jack glared at Owen, his mouth falling open in surprise. “You said you liked this suit!” he exclaimed, running a hand down his lapel. 

Owen placed a hand on Jack’s arm and leant closer, whispering in his ear. “It looked better on the hanger.”

Ianto sighed and reached into his pocket. “Listen, Owen, I’ve got ten pounds that says you’ve got somewhere better to be.”

The Londoner’s jaw dropped open and he stared at Ianto in part disgust, part horror. “As if my loyalty could be bought for ten quid!” he scoffed.

Ianto rolled his eyes and pulled out another ten-pound note. “What would you say if I offered you twenty-pound?” he asked, holding the money out to their maid.

“I’d say thank goodness; my arms are killing me,” Owen sighed with relief, handing Jack the parasol and taking the money from Ianto.

Jack stared at Owen as he hurried away from the couple. “I don’t want to speak to you,” he muttered, folding the parasol away and stalking past Ianto to their usual table at the café.

“Please, Jack,” Ianto begged, placing a hand on Jack’s arm as he walked with him to the table. “I’m sorry. You know I love you and would never intentionally hurt you.”

Jack raised an eyebrow and regarded Ianto. “If you loved me, you wouldn’t have done this,” he stated evenly.

Ianto sighed and ran a hand over the back of his neck. “I do love you,” he reiterated. “But I also love Rhys and had to make a choice. But, I will admit that I made the wrong choice.”

“Well, at least you admit that you were wrong,” Jack murmured, averting his eyes and shrugging his shoulders a little.

Ianto placed his hand on the table, next to Jack’s. “But, I was thinking,” he murmured, sliding his hand across the table so that it was next to Jack’s. “I think I’ve figured out a way that you can be there tomorrow and not raise suspicion.”

Jack raised an eyebrow. “And that idea is…?”

Ianto linked his little finger with Jack’s – the only show of affection the other man would let him get away with in public – and smiled tightly. “You could be Rhys’ Uncle Jack who lives with us?” he offered.

Jack leant back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest. “Excuse me, Uncle Jack?” 

“What’s wrong with that?” Ianto asked defensively. 

“Well, the displacement of stature, for one,” Jack retorted. “Uncle Jack? That’s so common!”

Ianto sighed and placed a hand over Jack’s arm without thinking about it, making the other man jerk wildly as he pulled his hand away. “Just think, you can pull one over on them by being Uncle Jack. With a simple change in… demeanour.”

“Demeanour?” Jack demanded, raising an eyebrow.

Ianto winced a little. “There are certain ways you act that could… shock people who weren’t otherwise pre-warned.”

Jack raised an eyebrow and pointed at Ianto’s hand, which was dangling in the air. “Says you,” he muttered.

Ianto rolled his eyes and lowered his hand. “My mannerisms could be mistaken for tasteful affectations. Whereas, yours…” He trailed off, letting Jack finish the sentence for himself.

“So you want me to…” Jack floundered around, trying to think of right word.

“Straighten up your act,” Ianto supplied for him. Jack’s jaw dropped open in horror and he stared at his partner. “Don’t be like that, Jack,” he implored. “Think of it as…” He trailed off as he tried to think of the word. “Think of it as the most challenging performance of your acting career.”

He pulled Jack to his feet, before taking a step back and folding his arms across his chest. “Slouch,” he instructed.

Jack raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me?” he retorted.

Ianto rolled his eyes. “Slouch,” he repeated. “You’re holding yourself too rigid; so, slouch.”

Jack narrowed his eyes and took a deep breath before he let his shoulders fall forward in what was possibly the strangest posture Ianto had ever seen. 

“Okay,” Ianto whispered, running his hand through his hair. “Maybe a standing slouch was too advanced for you. Try slouching in that chair instead.”

The other man sighed and moved back to the chair, sitting down in a way that was anything but slouching. Ianto watched, trying to figure out what to suggest, as Jack picked up a croissant and began running his tongue around the top. “Stop that,” Ianto scowled, swatting Jack on the back of the hand and making him drop the croissant. 

Jack pouted and folded his arms across his chest. “Spoilsport,” he muttered darkly, glaring at his partner.

Ianto rolled his eyes and was about to say something when John arrived with their drinks.

“How are you?” John asked, placing their drinks down and wiping the table of the crumbs Jack had dropped.

Ianto grinned widely and pointed at Jack. “He is going to pass himself off as a straight man,” he announced.

Jack smiled and nodded his head proudly. When John burst out laughing, Jack’s face fell. “Ianto!” he exclaimed, pointing at the café owner.

Ianto scowled at John and placed a hand on his hip. “He can do this,” he informed John. “It’ll be the greatest acting performance of his career.”

Martha appeared at that moment and Jack told her what he was going to attempt. To his relief she beamed and ran a hand over his hair. “If anyone can pull it off, it’ll be you, honey,” she murmured, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

Jack smiled and threw a smug look at John, who had the decency to look abashed. “Let’s see, then,” John said, looking at Jack.

Ianto nodded his head encouragingly, and Jack got to his feet. They watched as he moved away from them. He took a deep breath, preparing himself for the performance before moving towards them in what was possibly the strangest walk Ianto had ever seen.

Jack turned and looked at them expectantly. “Well?” he asked, holding his arms out as he waited for their reaction.

The nightclub owner bit his lip as he tried to stop himself from laughing. “It was… different,” he croaked, coughing violently as a laugh tried to force its way out of his throat.

Jack placed his hands on his hips and glared at his partner. “Ianto!” he exclaimed, looking as though he were on the verge of stomping his foot on the ground.

“I’m sorry, Jack,” Ianto chuckled, running his hand down Jack’s arm. “It was just a little… over the top. Try toning it down a little,” he suggested. “Let’s try again…”

x

Rhys was pacing the length of the living room, wringing his hands in front of him. “Come on,” he murmured, looking at his watch and seeing that his family were straying dangerously close to being late. “Where are you?” he muttered.

The door opened and Rhys practically ran to it, grinning happily. “About time!” he shouted. “What are you wearing?” he demanded when he saw that the newcomer wasn’t actually his father. Instead it was Owen, wearing a uniform that wouldn’t look out of place in a seventeenth century period drama.

Owen frowned and looked down at himself. “What are you talking about?” he asked. “Doesn’t it suit me?”

“Don’t you think it’s a little over the top?” Rhys said, slamming the door behind Owen.

The maid raised an eyebrow and indicated to the room around them. “No more than your décor,” he retorted, eyeing up the crucifix that had made an appearance during Rhys’ remodelling.

Rhys winced a little. “Do you think I went too far?” he asked.

Owen chuckled and shrugged his shoulders. “When it comes to going too far, you’re asking the wrong person,” he informed the younger man, indicating his attire.

Rhys rolled his eyes. “Just get changed please,” he begged.

The door opened and Ianto entered, wearing a bland suit with a white shirt and grey tie. “Well, I suppose that’ll have to do,” Rhys muttered, taking in his father’s appearance. “You are supposed to be retired, after all.”

“If there was a compliment there, I accept,” Ianto retorted, adjusting his cuffs.

Rhys sighed and smiled tightly at his father. “I’m sorry, you look very handsome,” he soothed the older man. 

Ianto smiled back at him and rolled his shoulders. “I know,” he agreed. “Wait until you see Jack,” he added.

“Yeah,” Rhys said distractedly, before he realised what Ianto had actually said. “Wait!” he instructed. “Jack? I thought you were going to tell him!”

Ianto smirked and put his hands in his pockets, turning and regarding his son. “I did, but then I realised something,” he stated. “I want Jack here, so we’ve come up with a plan. For one night, Ceinwen will perform as your Uncle Jack…”

He held a hand out, indicating to the doorway. When no one entered the room, Ianto sighed and stalked across the room. “Come on,” he instructed, reaching around the room and pulling Jack into the room. “You can’t hide out there forever. Come show our child what kind of Frankenstein his love has created.”

Rhys slapped his hand over his mouth and tried not to laugh as Jack entered the room, wearing an ill-fitting suit and a pair of thick-rimmed glasses. “What is this supposed to be?” he demanded, pointing to Jack.

Jack moved over to him in a way that very nearly made Rhys laugh again. “Pleasure to meet your acquaintance, sir,” he growled, placing his hand in Rhys and shaking with a grip that was far too tight.

Rhys shook Jack’s hand for a moment before he realised that there was something sticking into his hand. “Tad!” he cried, holding Jack’s hand up and revealing that the drag queen was wearing a jewelled silver ring.

Jack gasped in horror and clutched his hand to his chest. “Please!” he begged. “Allow me some comfort.”

Ianto sighed and held his hand out. “He’s right, Jack,” he said. “No need to guild the lily.”

Jack scowled and pulled the ring off, slamming it into Ianto’s palm. “Thank you,” Ianto whispered, placing the ring in his pocket.

Rhys ran a hand through his hair, just as the doorbell rang, signalling Gwen’s arrival. “Okay, people,” he stated, “Behind that door, there are people who live a life style far removed from your own. For the next twenty-four hours, I’m begging you to let go of everything that you hold dear.”

He paused, taking a deep breath. He threw them one last look, before instructing. “Tad, you stand over there; Owen, you get the door; and Jack…” He hesitated. “You stand over there, somewhere,” he finished, waving to the back of the room.

“Does everyone understand what they need to do?” he asked, looking around and making eye-contact with each of them. They nodded firmly and he counted to three, before saying, “Places people. The strangest day of your lives is about to begin.”

What followed in the next few moments could only be described as complete chaos. Ianto took his place and watched in alarm as Jack’s cold feet got the better of him and he fled out of the room.

“Jack!” he cried, trying to go after his partner, but Rhys held a hand up, practically welding Ianto his spot.

“He’ll be fine,” Rhys stated, indicating that Owen should open the door.

Owen slumped his shoulders and stomped to the door. He paused for a second before pulling it open, revealing three people. “Sir,” he nodded, stepping back to allow Gwen’s father access to the room.

He repeated the process with Gwen’s mother and Gwen herself, before closing the door behind the small family.

Rhys grinned at his fiancée from across the room and swept her into his arms. He leant down to press a kiss on her lips, only to be stopped when she shook her head, nodding back to her father.

The Welshman nodded and took a step back. “Pleasure to meet you, Sir,” he murmured, holding his hand out to Geraint.

Geraint didn’t take his hand, instead he looked straight through Rhys as he spotted Ianto. Rhys sighed and ran his hand over the back of his neck. “Mr and Mrs Cooper, this is my father, Ianto Jones.”

Ianto held his hand out, and this time Geraint actually shook it for a moment before letting him go. “Welcome to our home, Mr Cooper.” He stepped around Geraint and holding his hand out to Gwen’s mother. “Mrs Cooper,” he greeted, pressing his lips to the back of her hand.

She chuckled and shook her head. “Please, call me Mary,” she instructed.

“Only if you call me, Ianto,” he replied, flashing her a brilliant grin. “And this must be Gwen!” he exclaimed, seeing Gwen standing near Rhys. “I can see why our Rhys is so enamoured with you; you’re beautiful,” he stated, kissing the back of her hand also.

Gwen blushed and smoothed down her long black hair. “Thank you, Mr Jones,” she whispered.

“Was that a night club I saw downstairs?” Mary asked, taking a step forward and looking at Ianto with an eager glint in her eyes; he suddenly knew that she wasn’t going to be as difficult to like as her husband. 

“Was it?” Ianto echoed, trying to not panic. “Oh, we don’t associate with the likes of them.”

“And what would they be like?” Geraint asked, suspicion showing his voice. 

Panic flared inside Ianto for a moment and he fought to not show it as he answered, “Oh, I wouldn’t really know. They don’t go out in the day light.”

Rhys rolled his eyes and jumped to his father’s defence. “Erm, my mother begs your forgiveness for her lateness,” he said. “She’s been called to the bedside of her sick Godmother.”

Ianto’s eyes widened in surprise as he stared at his son. “How did you know that?” he murmured out of the corner of his mouth. 

Rhys chuckled a little and placed his hands in his pockets. “She called a little while ago,” he lied. 

“Of course,” Geraint said, nodding his head in understanding. 

“Snacks?” Owen asked, striding into the room, carrying a tray filled with finger foods.

Rhys smiled, thankful for something to distract them all. “That sounds like a good idea,” he murmured, crossing to a small table where Owen had placed some dishes earlier. Without even looking at them, Rhys distributed the dishes to everyone in the room.

“Oh, these are wonderful dishes,” Mary gushed, holding the plate at arms length and studying it. “Mine have young men on them,” she added.

Ianto’s eyes widened in horror as he realised what picture was on the dish Mary was holding. 

“What is that they’re doing?” Geraint asked. “Mary, pass my glasses,” he instructed.

“No!” Rhys exclaimed, lunging forward and snatching the dish from Gwen’s mother. “They’re nothing. I don’t know where these came from.”

“Are they Greek?” Geraint continued, squinting as he studied the plate he was holding.

Ianto chuckled nervously and snatched the plate from him, handing it back to Rhys. “No,” he argued. “There’s no Greeks on our plates; unless they’ve not been washed properly.”

Somehow Mary managed to get hold of another plate and was continuing to study the pattern. If Ianto had thought the earlier activity classed as chaos, he had been so very wrong. 

In the bedlam that followed, during which Ianto and Rhys – and Gwen when she realised what was actually on the dishes - tried to take the plates from the Coopers, none of them noticed the door open and another person enter the room.

“Mother’s here,” a very familiar voice proclaimed, diverting their attention away from the plates.

Both Rhys and Ianto looked up in surprise; each dropping the plate they were holding in shock. Jack was standing a few feet away, wearing a plain black shirt, white blouse and a cream cardigan. Neither Rhys nor Ianto had ever seen Jack look less extravagant.

Ignoring his partner and son’s disbelief, Jack stepped further into the room and approached the Coopers. “Please forgive my lateness,” he implored. “I was called away to the bedside of my sick Great-Uncle,” he added, not noticing when Ianto and Rhys winced. “He was dying. I just had to wait for the inevitable.”

Geraint frowned. “That’s quite alright,” he assured the drag queen. “But we were lead to believe that it was your Godmother that had been taken ill.”

Jack froze, horror written all over his face, before he chuckled weakly, throwing a light glare at Ianto and Rhys. “And so it was,” he agreed. “It was my Uncle, who also acted as my godmother since my original godmother passed away several years ago. God knows what I’ll do for a godmother now,” he added, trying to lighten the atmosphere in the room.

“Let alone a Great-Uncle,” Mary quipped.

Jack let out a laugh and moved to Gwen’s mother. “You look wonderful, my dear,” he murmured, taking Mary’s hands in his and holding her at arms length as he took her appearance in.

Mary smiled and smoothed down her clothing, thanking Jack softly.

“I just adore comfortable clothing,” Jack continued, allowing himself a small smirk. “Not too long ago, I was lounging in one of my husband’s suits. Ianto just hates me in his trousers.”

Ianto rolled his eyes and glared at Jack. “I don’t hate you in my trousers,” he muttered through gritted teeth. “I think we should eat though, don’t you?” he asked, throwing Rhys a pleading look.

Rhys nodded his head and breathed a sigh of relief. “Yeah,” he agreed, picking up a bell he had placed nearby earlier that day and ringing it lightly.

Five whole minutes passed before the kitchen door burst open and Owen came running in, carrying a blackened roast chicken and murmuring expletives under his breath; Ianto could just about make out a string of apologies.

Jack sighed and took hold of Owen by the collar, ushering him out of the room and slamming the door behind him. “We’ll be eating out,” he stated, tuning back to them with a smile on his face.

“I don’t like restaurant food,” Geraint stated.

Jack fought very hard to not scowl at him. “Be that as it may, I’m sure Mr Cooper will find something to amuse his pallet at Chez Rose.”

“Chez Rose!” Mary exclaimed excitedly, rushing forward and looking up at Jack eagerly; the height difference didn’t even seem to register with her.

“You’ve been?” Jack asked, grinning down at her. 

Mary sighed and shook her head. “No, but I’ve been trying to get my husband to take me there for years. It’s always fully booked.”

“How do you expect to get a reservation at such short notice?” Geraint asked, putting his hands in his pockets and raising an eyebrow.

Jack smirked and barely managed to restrain himself from rolling his eyes. He held a finger up, “Never under estimate the ingenuity of a mother,” he said. “First, locate your instrument.”

Almost as if by magic, Owen appeared with an elegant phone. “Second, lift the receiver and dial,” Jack said, sliding his earring off and holding the receiver to his ear.

“It’s dialling,” he whispered, looking around at the eager eyes watching him. “And third, speak sweetly. Rose,” he greeted when the call was answered. “Oui,” he agreed. “We’ll be six. Merci.”

x

Chez Rose was the fanciest restaurant in Cardiff and was on the waterfront, overlooking the bay. Ianto and Jack loved to dine there as often as possible, and Rhys had practically grown up in the restaurant. The small family could certainly tell that none of the Coopers had been there before. They were looking around with wide-eyed awe as Rose led them to their seats.

“You seem to be well known around here,” Geraint observed as they sat down. 

“We’ve been a few times,” Ianto confirmed, holding Jack’s chair out, before sitting next to him. 

“Ah, Ceinwen!” Rose cried, heading for Jack with a large grin on her face. “Thank you for accommodating my friends last night; no one’s heard from them since,” she added, giving them a knowing wink.

Jack and Ianto winced and shook their head, trying to brush off her comments. 

Unfortunately for them, Geraint immediately latched onto the name Rose had called Jack. “Ceinwen?” he questioned. “You were an actress?”

Jack grimaced a little and shrugged his shoulders. “It was a long time ago and just something I tried for a while. I’m simply a mother now.”

Ianto sighed and ran his fingers around the edge of his glass. “She tried growing marrows, but acting was what she was more natural at,” he murmured, wishing the ground would open up and swallow him whole.

“I insist that you give us a little song,” Rose ordered, holding her glass up to toast Jack. “Otherwise I won’t leave you alone and will badger you all evening.”

Jack, Ianto and Rhys shook their heads, trying to shush Rose. “I can’t do that,” Jack murmured, patting her hand and turning to Ianto, trying to pretend the club owner wasn’t there.

“Yes, you can,” Rose argued, not moving from where she was standing behind the drag queen.

“I’d love to hear you sing, if anyone wants my opinion,” Mary commented, looking eagerly at Jack.

“No one does, Mary,” Geraint muttered darkly.

Ianto sighed and studied his partner; he could tell that Jack really wanted the opportunity to sing. “Go on,” Ianto urged with a nod of his head. “Give them what they want.”

Jack grinned brilliantly and nodded his head. Down the end of the table, he could see panic flaring in Rhys’ eyes and briefly considered stepping back; but in the end, they wanted to hear him sing, so he was going to sing.

“Brilliant!” Rose enthused, clapping her hands happily. She indicated to the band, “G,” she instructed.

“G flat,” Jack amended, throwing back a mouthful of wine. “It’s been a long day.”

Ianto smiled to himself and leant back in his chair, watching as Jack began singing; his beautiful voice filling the small restaurant. He chanced a glance at Gwen’s parents and laughed to himself when he saw how enthralled they were in the performance. If only they knew who they were listening to.

Jack headed his way and - placing a hand in Ianto’s - pulled his partner to his feet. “You’re doing a brilliant job,” Ianto murmured in Jack’s ear as they danced around the table.

The drag queen offered him a relieved smile. “Donna called while you were letting the Cooper’s in. She can’t make it, something about a last minute business meeting or something. I told you she’d hurt him,” Jack whispered.

Ianto smiled sadly. “I don’t think Rhys has even noticed she’s missing,” he replied.

Jack beamed at him and released Ianto, pushing him in the direction of Gwen, before he moved on to Geraint. He felt a smug satisfaction as he managed to persuade the older man into dancing with him.

Pretty soon everyone was out of their seats, dancing to Jack’s song. Ianto laughed as he twirled Gwen around, making the young girl chuckle in amusement. 

Suddenly the room when quiet and Ianto turned around in alarm, wondering what had happened to make everyone stop singing and dancing.

To his horror, he saw Jack standing in the middle of the room, his shoulder length blonde wig lying on the floor at his feet. Rhys was standing besides him, wearing a horror filled expression. From the way he was stood, Ianto could tell that Rhys had bumped into Jack while dancing and had knocked his wig off.

They really were up the creek without a paddle.

x

Back at the house, Ianto and Jack sat on the couch, looking up at the Coopers like guilty children. 

“This is absurd,” Geraint seethed, pacing across the living room in agitation. “Come on, Mary, Gwen. The wedding is off; we’re leaving.”

Mary nodded her head in agreement, clutching her bag to her chest. “We’re right behind you,” she murmured. 

Gwen frowned and bit her lip, before shaking her head. “I’m sorry, Mother,” she argued. “But we are not ‘right behind you’,” she stated.

Both Geraint and Mary turned to look at her in surprise. “Excuse me?” Geraint asked, raising an eyebrow at his daughter. 

“I’m sorry father, but I love Rhys and I’m staying here with him,” Gwen informed him.

Geraint glared at her, his face going red with annoyance. “Dare to defy me and I’ll cut you off,” he threatened. 

Gwen rolled her eyes and reached for Rhys’ hand. “So cut me off,” she dared. “I love Rhys and I’m marrying him, with or without your dowry.”

Mary swallowed nervously and sat down slowly as Geraint’s face got redder and redder in anger. “Gwen,” Geraint said slowly, “you honestly want to stay here with these cross-dressing homosexuals?”

Jack held a hand up. “One cross-dresser,” he corrected.

“One… plain homosexual,” Ianto added, holding up a finger as well.

“Yes,” Gwen answered her father’s question. “I’m staying right here.”

She linked her fingers with Rhys’ and sat down on the couch next to him. “We’re getting married, father,” she stated.

Geraint huffed and turned on his heel, snapping, “Come on, Mary,” as he tried to storm out of the house.

Before he could reach the door, however, it burst open and Rose came striding in with a determined look on her face. “Ah, I knew I’d find you here,” she exclaimed, pointing at Geraint.

“You all left in such a hurry you didn’t have chance to pay your bill,” she stated. “But then I realised who you were. Naughty Ceinwen, you should have told me.”

Jack offered a tight smile, wondering where she was heading with her train of thought. “Some how I knew you’d figure it out,” he murmured.

“So I thought to myself, ‘Rose, you had the Deputy General Cooper in your restaurant and you didn’t even get chance to have your picture taken with him’,” Rose said, placing a hand on her hip and grinning widely. “I hope you don’t mind but I took the liberty of calling a few reporters from magazines, television and newspapers.” She smirked to herself, “And they’re waiting for us outside.”

Geraint dropped the suitcase in horror. “They’re… what?” he breathed, dread filling his stomach.

“Outside,” Owen supplied, for once not earning himself a glare from Ianto.

“God, I’m going to be ruined,” Geraint very nearly wailed.

Rose grinned. “But of course.”

Jack laughed and got to his feet, ignoring Ianto’s murmurings to stay put. “Looks to me, General Coop,” he began, moving over to Geraint, “that you’re stuck in our humble abode. With no way out.”

Ianto got to his feet, a plan hatching in his mind. “We’ve been thinking and we’ve decided that we’re going to give Rhys and Gwen our blessing.” Jack moved back to the small family, not stopping until he was stood besides his partner. “And we think you should do the same.”

“I’ll do no such thing,” Geraint snapped, snatching the suitcase up from the floor and storming out of the door, only to be blinded by cameras flashing. Immediately, he turned on his heel and marched back inside, kicking the door closed behind him. “They have my blessing,” he reluctantly stated.

Rhys and Gwen grinned happily, before embracing each other.

“And the dowry?” Ianto pressed.

“The dowry’s hers, what more do you want?” Geraint snapped, slumping into the chair.

“On those special occasions – you know, birthdays, Christmas, anniversaries-,” Jack began.

“We’ll be there,” Geraint interrupted.

“Don’t,” Jack instructed with a grin.

A pointed cough caught their attention and they all turned to face Rose, who was looking a little putout. 

“Rose!” Jack exclaimed, trying to not sound like he had completely forgotten about her.

“Of course,” she murmured darkly. “Everyone forgets about Rose.”

“We hadn’t forgotten about you,” Ianto lied, jumping to his partner’s defence. “We just… Do you think you’ll be able to handle the photographers alone for a few moments while we freshen up?” he asked.

Rose’s face immediately brightened and she nodded her head. She took a deep breath, squared her shoulders and marched out of the house with a determined look on her face.

Owen closed the door behind her and Jack immediately asked, “Did you lock it?”

The maid raised an eyebrow and replied, “My mother didn’t raise a fool.”

“Have you all forgotten my problem?” Geraint said from the chair he was still sat in. “I can’t go out there,” he pointed out of the door. “Everything I’ve worked for will be ruined. I’m trapped here for the rest of my life.”

Ianto smirked and placed a hand on Jack’s back. “Actually, I can think of one way out that doesn’t involve going past the reporters,” he stated.

Geraint’s face immediately lit up and he demanded, “How?”

“The club!” Jack exclaimed, catching onto Ianto’s train of thought. “That’s brilliant.”

“Of course it is,” Ianto replied with a grin. “Come on, we’d better hurry.”

x

The next half an hour was possibly the strangest thirty minutes of Ianto’s life. It took them almost ten minutes to convince Geraint to dress up as one of the clubs dancers, and then another ten to find a dress that would actually fit him.

Gwen actually turned out to be a pretty good dancer and Ianto briefly considering hiring her, before dismissing the idea – his other male dancers wouldn’t appreciate him bringing a real woman into the club.

Mary’s dancing was… different, to say the least. But it still served its purpose and Ianto couldn’t complain about that.

Geraint’s dancing, however, couldn’t even be classed as dancing. It was so wooden that Ianto had to wonder what he had been smoking prior to conceiving the idea. Still, it worked and they were almost at the club door when Rose burst in, closely followed by two reporters, looking for them.

Ianto quickly schooled his features to look neutral, and he directed them out another door, enabling the Cooper’s to slip out the side of the club.

Once everyone was safely outside, Ianto closed the door and turned to the small group. “We did it,” he announced, grinning widely at them.

Gwen and Rhys let out a small cheer of excitement, and Ianto was amused to see Mary even clap a little. 

Rhys pulled away from Gwen and took a step closer to Ianto. “Thanks, Tad,” he murmured, offering his father an abashed smile.

Ianto rolled his eyes, “Come here, you,” he instructed, reaching out and pulling his son into a tight hug. “Just do me one thing,” he said, pulling back and looking into Rhys’ eyes. 

“What?” Rhys replied, looking a little wary. 

“No more favours,” Ianto added, his blue eyes flicking over Rhys’ shoulder to Jack who was standing a few feet away, looking slightly uncomfortable at being outside the club in drag.

Rhys followed Ianto’s gaze and smiled at Jack. “I promise, no more favours,” he agreed, taking a step towards the drag queen. “Can you forgive me, mother?” Rhys asked, looking up into Jack’s startled blue eyes.

They stared at each other for a long moment, before the corners of Jack’s mouth curled up. “Forgive you,” he scoffed. “There’s nothing to forgive.” He reached out and pulled Ianto’s – their - son into a tight hug. 

Ianto smiled as he watched the two most important people in his life embrace. “The Coopers need to get out of here, before Rose realises we’ve sent her on a wild goose chase,” he said after a few moments, not wanting to break up the moment, but knowing that he had to.

Geraint nodded his head wildly in agreement. “I parked the car around…” He trailed off when said car pulled around the corner, Owen behind the wheel. 

“You should go,” Jack said, pressing a kiss against Rhys’ head and taking a step back. 

“We’ll be back tomorrow?” Rhys asked, looking over at Ianto for the nod of approval, before moving back over to Gwen.

“Thank you for everything,” both Gwen and Mary told them, hugging Ianto and Jack tightly before getting into the car.

Geraint’s thank you was less enthusiastic and involved no hugging, but Jack and Ianto both knew it was better than nothing.

As the car drove off, Ianto turned to Jack and put his hands in his pockets, suddenly feeling like the nervous young man he had been when they’d first met. “You’ve forgiven Rhys,” he whispered, looking down at his feet bashfully. “Can you ever forgive me for how I’ve been these past few days?”

Jack rolled his eyes. “Like I said to him, there’s nothing to forgive,” he stated. “You have to look out for family. Even if your family’s being a complete idiot.”

Ianto blushed and reached, placing his hand on Jack’s arm. “I love you, Jack,” he murmured, leaning forward before stopping himself; they were in public.

Jack smiled and stood a step forward, not stopping until he was in Ianto’s personal space. “I love you too, you big idiot,” he whispered, cupping Ianto’s cheek with his hand before kissing him soundly.

The End


End file.
